


she opens a door in the house by the ocean

by Anise



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armitage Hux is being suspiciously nice, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Love Triangles, M/M, Mind Games, Mystery, Phasma is such a bitch, Plot based smut, Smut, Things are not what they seem, the rape doesn't actually happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anise/pseuds/Anise
Summary: Rey doesn’t know her name until she learns it from the mysterious man on the beach. He calls himself Ben, and she needs to know nothing more. She wants him to introduce her to the passion he promises. But then she opens the door in the house by the ocean where he takes her, and she finds out that nothing is what it seems…  Present Reylo, implied present Hux/Phasma, references to past Kylo/Hux, potential future but not really present Reylux.





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, this is OFFICIALLY the first Reylo smut I've ever written. (There's a lot... I mean really, a lot... of Draco/Ginny smut, some of it on AO3, but not for any other pairings.) So here it is! Hope you all enjoy. :)

++++

It was a beautiful day on the beach. The air held a slight chill, and the sky was overcast, but still, she knew that it felt like a beautiful day, although she wasn’t sure why. The gulls soared overhead; the waves crashed against the jagged rock promontory. The cliffs rose high behind the beach. Far away, she could see that the seals lounged on the rocks with their babies. One tiny seal kept looking at her with its huge brown eyes, its furry head smooth and its body neatly rounded.

She’d seen something like that animal before. She started to walk towards the seal rocks without thinking, drawn by the mysterious familiarity. _I can almost remember your name… Morgan, maybe? Parage? No, that’s not quite right._

“Stop,” said a voice.

She glanced over to see a handsome young man only a few yards behind her, tall and thin with dark hair glinting in the sun.

“We ought to stay clear of the baby seals,” he said by way of explanation. His voice was clipped and precise, and his narrow face was stern. He regarded her almost warily. But there was something simmering in him beneath his cool and perfect surface. Something, perhaps, that she saw even though nobody else did. _I’m safe with him_ , she thought. She relaxed.

“Oh… that’s right. I really don’t want to frighten them,” she said.

He stepped closer still. “I know that you didn’t mean any such thing.” Then he laid his hand lightly on her arm. She knew at once that they had to be familiar with each other in some way.

It was all right. She didn’t normally like it when men touched her without asking, or truthfully, when they touched her at all, because she normally never gave permission. But this man was different.

A wave swept up towards the two of them; they were standing almost at the edge of the water. She leaned down, dipped her fingers in the ocean, and sucked in her breath at how shockingly cold it was.

“I don’t think we can swim,” she said sadly.

‘I wouldn’t recommend trying it without a good wetsuit,” said the man. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” she said, shivering.

The man took off his sweater and carefully draped it round her shoulders. She hugged the wool close, sniffing the comforting scent, like spice and wood smoke mingled. He was standing very close to her now. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, too.

“May I hold you?” he asked in a low voice.

She nodded, vaguely aware that maybe she should feel at least a slight sense of danger at the request. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt strangely safe.

He put his arms around her from behind. Strong arms, much stronger than she would have thought from how slender he was. She relaxed back into his embrace, and he shuddered, holding her tighter. Oh, but how good it felt; the play of the muscles in his chest, his breathing in her ear, a strand of his hair tickling the side of her nose when he bent down his head towards her.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and she understood a bit more about what their relationship must be. She was his… what? Girlfriend? If so, how long had they been together? She wondered if he would kiss her, and could not quite figure out how she would feel if he did. _Do I want him to try?_ She considered the thought and decided that she might like this man to kiss her. His lips were full and beautifully shaped, and she wanted to test the fit of his mouth on hers. But it felt like their relationship was too new for him to assume that kissing her without asking first would be acceptable. There was a tentative quality in him; she could feel it in the way he was holding her, a bit stiffly and yet very close. Well, she felt shy as well. 

Something was nagging at her, though. A lot of things, to tell the truth, but she decided to take first things first.

“What’s my name? Do you know?” she asked, swiveling her head round to look up into his face. Was he handsome? She couldn't decide. His cheekbones were too high, his chin too pointed, his nose too long. And yet... he was _beautiful._ He even looked good when she was staring up his nose.

“Rey,” he said.

“Oh. I couldn’t quite remember it, I guess.” The name sounded right, although she wouldn’t have remembered it on her own. “And what’s yours?”

“K—” He hesitated for only a second after cutting off that name, whatever it was. “You can call me Ben.”

“So you mean that I normally _do_ call you Ben?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes, sniffing that spicy, smoky scent that seemed to come even more strongly from his skin. “Ben, do I know you very well?”

He put a finger on her chin and turned her round, towards him. “You know me well enough for this,” he said.

His lips came down on hers, firm and very warm, and oh _yes_ she’d wanted him to kiss her. She had wondered how she would feel, and now she knew. They broke apart sooner than she would have liked.

“Did you like that?” he asked, scanning her face with brilliant brown eyes.

“Oh, yes!” she said breathlessly.

“I’m glad.” Ben smiled, and it transformed his face from its severity into something boyish and eager and happy.

They spent a long, lazy afternoon together. Rey wasn’t even sure how much time was passing, but every time she looked up in the sky, the sun had moved. Walking along the beach, skipping stones in the water, searching for agates in the sand, watching the seals; and always, always touching each other. He started out careful and hesitant, fingers trailing along her forearm, a squeeze of her shoulder. She felt shy, but she kept encouraging him with inviting looks and timid touches of her own. By the end of the afternoon, she had lost much of her shyness, but he still seemed cautious.

At last, the light began to sink over the horizon. They stood higher up on the beach, closer to the cliff, watching the start of sunset. His arm was round her waist, and he pulled her close to him; she rested her head against his side.

“What do we do now, Ben?” asked Rey.

He hesitated, looking down at her from his considerable height. “What would you like to do?”

 _More kissing. And then… even more than that_? she thought, but she felt too shy to say. After all, she didn’t really know how well she knew this young man, Ben. Maybe their relationship had never progressed beyond kissing yet, in which case, he might think she was too bold for suggesting more. She also wasn’t quite sure what that additional activity might be. She knew so little, and each piece of information seemed revealed to her only as she needed it.

He turned her round and pointed up at the very top of the steep cliff, at a small but elegant building with huge picture windows, overlooking the sea. Its picture windows caught the fading light and shimmered back into her eyes. Rey wondered what might be in it.

“Do you see that cottage?” asked Ben.

She nodded.

“We’re going back there.”

Excitement fluttered in her stomach, and just a bit of apprehension.

“And what then?” she asked.

He was silent for a long moment, such a long time, in fact, that she grew impatient, and wondered if he was going to answer at all. “I want to be alone with you.”

There was more he wasn’t saying; she sensed that. It didn’t seem as if he were trying to deceive her, but more as if he were gauging how much he was prepared to tell her at any given time, and how much of the truth she wanted to hear. But he would tell her more as time unfolded, she felt.

She didn’t answer right away, and he looked at her anxiously.

“I’d like that,” Rey said.

They climbed the long long flight of stone stairs that wound to the top of the cliff, ending at a small, private balcony. Ben took her by the hand and led her through a door with inset windows. Once the door closed behind them, she looked round the most elegant room she had ever seen. A fire crackled in the huge fireplace, casting orange shadows on a fur rug. A small, round table held a bottle of champagne on ice and a vase of blood-red roses. She glanced behind her briefly and saw a large bed hung with rose-colored curtains. Excitement and a bit of fear mingled, pumping through Rey’s veins.

“Is this all right?” Ben asked behind her, sounding uncertain.

“Of course it is. I’m just not… used to anything this fancy, to tell you the truth. Not that I actually remember,” she added. “But I like it.”

“Good,” said Ben.

As she stood looking into the fireplace, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Rey…”

“What is it?” she asked after a pause, feeling so warm and safe that it was hard to say anything at all.

“I want something more,” he said.

She nodded. “I thought so.”

“But we don’t do anything that you don’t like, or that doesn’t please you. If you want me to stop…” His words trailed off.

Rey wasn’t entirely sure what he was even talking about. But as she felt the warmth pulsing through his skin, smelled the wood smoke, heard the far-off crashing of the waves, she began to see the shape of some voluptuous pleasure growing clear. Something that he was about to offer her, if she would only take it.

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” she said. “But what is it that you want, Ben?”

He swallowed hard, and seemed almost afraid to continue.

“Go on,” she prompted, wishing that those hands clasped lightly around her waist would move, would go somewhere, do something.

“I want to make love to you, Rey,” he said.

That was what the enormous bed behind them would be used for. She knew that much, each piece of knowledge revealing itself one bit at a time. She wasn’t sure how much else she knew. They’d get into the bed, and then… what, exactly? But perhaps Ben would teach her. Surely he would.

 _I want to make love to you. To make love._ The phrase carried a succulent sound, ripe and juicy, fruit ready to fall from a tree. Rey wanted to learn how it tasted.

“Is that what you want?” he asked behind her.

“I think so,” said Rey. “Yes. I want you to make love to me, Ben.”

He let out his breath in a long, shuddering sigh. Then he pulled her even closer; he’d been keeping a tiny space between them, and the space was swiftly closed.

+++

A/N: Obviously, this isn't the end! I"m not that mean. ;) Much more to come... 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to all readers, all kudo-ers (especially [Nite_Owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nite_Owl), [Chridder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chridder), [Jessa_Rey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessa_Rey), [queenofharts1984](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofharts1984), and [Christina92251](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina92251)), and the wonderful reviewers, [Christina92251](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina92251/pseuds/Christina92251) and Nite_Owl! This chapter has the first bit of smut… but NOT the last. 😉

+++

Rey wanted Ben’s hands to move, and they did, oh, they did. Now he touched her as he hadn’t before, as if it had been all or nothing, and he was waiting for her permission for his complete possession until he did more than lightly brush her skin beneath fabric.

Still, his touch was very careful at first.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at his borrowed sweater on her body, and she nodded. His hands lingered on the bottom part of the shirt she wore beneath. “This too?” he added.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice, because she wanted his hands on her skin without even the thin cloth between them.

He unbuttoned her short-sleeved blouse, slowly, his fingers lingering on her neck, her chest, then moving downwards. He pushed the cloth off her shoulders until it puddled on the floor. Then he stood back a little way from her, his eyes traveling up and down her body. Rey felt heat rising in her cheeks.

_Should I be blushing? Should this make me nervous?_ _I’m not wearing anything but a bra_ … Was it pretty enough? She sneaked a peek downwards and was reassured to see that the fabric was pink, lace-trimmed satin, her breasts peeping over the top. Did he like what he was seeing as he undressed her?

“Have we done this before? I don’t remember if we have.”

“No. This will be the first time,” he said, his eyes glued to her chest.

“It’s our first time? Does that mean that it’s _your_ first time?”

“Uh…” For the first time, he seemed a bit embarrassed. ”No.”

“It’s all right,” she added quickly. “But what about me?

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think maybe I haven’t done this before at all,” blurted Rey.

He smiled, a flare of possessive pleasure touching his eyes.

She was glad that the possibility pleased him. And she hadn’t realized, or hadn’t thought, that at least part of the reason why she wasn’t remembering anything about what came next was that she’d never experienced it. And it was…

Important. It meant something. Something beyond what he knew. But she didn’t know what it was, either.

“Is this what you want?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Should I be remembering more, though?”

“No,” he muttered,

Without another word, Ben stepped towards her again and ran his hands along her shoulders, her fan-shaped back, her neck, her arms, his fingers light as bird feathers drifting onto her skin. Rey forgot all about memory and meaning. She shivered and felt the goosebumps rise. He kept touching her as if mapping out her nerve endings, but still he avoided the areas that she sensed would flare into pleasure if he touched them just so. When his hands were lingering at her waist, his fingers reaching upwards but not quite brushing the bottom of her breasts through the bra, at last she spoke.

“You can—touch me anywhere you want, Ben,” she softly urged. “It’s all right. I want you to.” And he would need to touch her everywhere if he was going to make love to her fully, wouldn’t he?

He let out his breath in a sigh. She understood that he’d been waiting for permission, and she had a strange sense of power. Before this, she’d only felt the imbalance—she had no idea what she was doing; he clearly did, and that was true in many ways. He’d known her name, this cottage was his, he knew what he wanted from her, and she had known none of these things. But she had power, too. Somehow, she had gotten both of them into this room, the firelight flickered in his eyes that were dark with desire for her; , she was going to lead him to that huge bed with the red velvet hangings. He would do nothing without her permission. The helpless longing she felt so deeply cut both ways.

His hands moved up to cup her breasts, very lightly. Much too lightly, she thought. The featherlike touch of his fingers felt good, but she wanted more.

She sighed as his hands moved across her upper back. Was he going to undo her bra? She really hoped so. _I want to be naked in front of him. I want him to touch me without anything in the way. I want…_

But then he brushed his hands across the back of her upper arms, and she winced at the touch of pain. When she raised her elbows and peered down, she saw that her skin was dappled with fading bruises. “What happened?”’ she asked.

His face darkened, setting into harsh lines that almost scared her. “Someone else hurt you, Rey. Don’t worry, I’ll never allow her to lay one finger on you again.”

“ _Her?_ Who is she…” Rey stopped, because the knowledge of this mysterious woman he’d mentioned was hovering just outside her consciousness, almost available to her mind if she pursued it. She could even ask Ben who this unknown woman was. But oh, how she didn’t want to.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shivered. “It’s like I almost remember who you’re talking about, or what might have happened, or maybe both. And I’m afraid of that memory. I _hate_ being afraid.”

“Never be afraid of me,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t, Rey, would you?”

There was something disturbing about the idea, and she had to wonder if in some other context, she did have some reason to fear him. But now, in this room, in the light of the setting sun, they were creating a place outside of time, away from anywhere else where their relationship might be a different one. What mattered was what they were to each other here, now.

“I won’t be afraid,” Rey promised. “Could you… um… go back to what you were doing before?”

In answer, his hands slid around her upper back again, and he flicked her bra open, pushing the fabric off her shoulders to join her blouse on the red- carpeted floor.

Rey’s heart pounded. She was naked above the waist now, and his eyes were fixed on her chest. She wondered fleetingly, did she please him? Her breasts were small, but they were full and round. Did he like them?

“Could—could you take off your shirt, too?” she whispered. He nodded and stripped off his elegant shirt so fast that several buttons popped off and rolled down onto the floor. He was wearing a silk undershirt beneath, and Rey stifled a nervous giggle when he couldn’t quite seem to figure out how to get it over his head, probably because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Should she be helping? _Oh, if only I didn’t feel so awkward, if I just remembered more about what we’re doing… but he’s doing this for me. Because I asked him to._ Yes. She had control over what was happening in some way that she didn’t yet understand.

He was standing so that his face was half-shadowed, but the firelight played on his naked upper body. Her eyes widened at the sight. His chest was so broad and muscular; him slim waist and legs would never have led her to guess he was hiding that sort of build beneath his clothing. As she stared, Ben took her hand in his, reaching up to lay her palm on his chest.

Slowly, she explored his smooth skin, pale and almost hairless, his muscles very warm and firm. _How strange that men have nipples too,_ she thought, running her hands very lightly over his taut skin. 

His breath caught, and then he finally did touch her, his hands moving up her torso. She realized that he was going to cup her breasts in those large hands, that he was going to do to her what she had done to him, and before she even had time to feel nervous or to wonder what this contact would feel like, she knew. Those big hands enveloped her pert breasts, and her thoughts dissolved. His fingers were just slightly roughened, and their touch caught on her nipples and it was like nothing she’d ever felt, even though she couldn’t really remember what she had or hadn’t felt before this afternoon in the cottage by the sea.

She moaned, the sound torn out of her throat, and the exquisite friction on the little pink nubs went on and on, relentlessly, and her knees were starting to give way. So one of his hands went behind her back, holding her up, raising her breasts up to his lips like fruit. Was he really going to—

Yes. He was. He bent his head down and began to lick at her nipples, lightly at first, and then harder. Rey was lost.

It wasn’t enough, the exquisite sucking pulling tied to a string between her legs. She wanted his hands to move lower down, to tear off her long skirt and underwear, to strip her completely naked, to finger and explore her, to feed the starving throbbing between her legs with rough touches and strokes, and then whatever, whatever came next, she wanted him to do. She could hear her own panting and moaning, could feel the muscles in her neck straining, her head thrown back and those exquisite pull of his mouth on her nipples going on and on.

She was losing control, and with one flicker of clear thought, she didn’t know if she _should_ be losing it. _I need to keep it. Just a bit. I have to be in control here. He needs to be a slave to his desire. Not you. You need to stay in control. Rose said that before I left the ship. What… wait… who is Rose… and when did she say that… and why…_

Rey struggled to open her eyes, to ground herself, if only for a moment, to resist the flood of desire and lust that was overwhelming her and shoving all thought out of her mind.

A cart sat in the opposite corner of the room. A metal box was perched on top, its surface covered in dials and gauges, connecting tubes snaking from the front. Rey didn’t know what it was. And yet, she knew too much.

Whatever this thing was, it was connected to both her and him. It was a whisper of doom, a cold dark spot in the glowing warmth of the room, a tear in the sensual web they were weaving for each other. 

And that wasn’t all. Just beyond the cart was a small door in the far wall. It was almost too small for an adult to enter, and oddly shaped, wider at the top than the bottom. It hadn’t been there when she’d first entered the room. Neither had the cart.

_I shouldn’t have looked, why did I look! I didn’t want to see this._

She gasped. Ben raised his head from her breasts, and she felt the loss, the unwelcome breath of colder air on her tingling nipples.

“What?” he asked, his voice as hoarse as the gravel on the beach. “Rey, what is it?”

“Nothing,” she said hastily. She didn’t want to ask him what the thing was. She didn’t want to know at all, but in particular, she did not want to ask him. She desperately wanted not to, in fact. _What’s that metal box on the cart? Why is there another door, a tiny door? Where could it go?_ She wanted to shut away the questions and the potential answers alike. He was turned in the other direction, so he didn’t see any of it. _Don’t turn around,_ she longed to say. _Don’t raise your head, don’t look at that thing, whatever it is… just tear off the rest of my clothes and then take me to that bed._

It was too late. He was already following her gaze, already looking at the cart. He was disturbed by it, too; he didn’t need to tell her that.

“Maybe…” he was saying now.

“What?” she asked tensely.

“Maybe you ought to give this to someone else, to a man who deserves it,” he said in a low monotone, as if repeating words he was compelled to say even as he despised each syllable.

Fear stabbed through her body. Would he actually stop what was happening between them? “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why not, Ben? I want this, I want you, so why wouldn’t you deserve it?”

He turned his face away. He was moving back from her. _Oh, R’iaa, no!_

“Ben, come back…” she said faintly, her hands reaching out for him.

“I’ve let this go too far,” he whispered, an entire step away from here now. “I should stop.”

“No,” she insisted. “It got this far because _I_ let it happen. Ben… please…”

He was still shaking his head. Because she had no idea what to do, she ran her gaze frantically up and down Ben’s half-naked body, hoping for a clue. The top button of his trousers had come undone somehow, she saw now, and the brass gleamed.

The fire on the hearth drew up and flickered then, a knot of wood spitting flame, the red light flashing, illuminating him. She clearly saw the huge bulge beneath the fly of the trousers, straining at the zipper. Before she had time to think, she lunged towards him and grabbed at what lay beneath.

He sucked in his breath with agonizing sharpness, and his face contorted.

“Please, please,” she whispered, fumbling at his waistband.

He stood rigid for a moment, as if all his muscles matched his painfully hard erection, and then he seized her hands and drew them up over her head. Rey started to protest. He leaned down to her until their foreheads touched.

“I can’t resist you,” he whispered. “I can’t, Rey.”

“I don’t want you to resist,” she said, trembling deliciously.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said hoarsely, letting her arms drop, seizing her hand, leading her, and she went with him gladly. They were going to go further, to do more, to do everything. And she wanted it all. If they could only reach that bed, then they would both be safe, and she would have what she craved so desperately.

But even as he pushed her down to the bed, and she felt herself fall backwards, the room twisted. The red coverlet pulled away from her. Rey stumbled and fell to the floor, starting to slide away from Ben. The room itself was tilting. Gravity was dragging her to the opposite wall, towards the box on the cart, and towards that tiny door. She cried out in fear; she saw Ben’s hands reaching for her, but the force pulling her to the shadowed side of the room was too strong to resist.

+++

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to all readers, kudo-ers, and reviewers, especially [Christina92251](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina92251/pseuds/Christina92251) and [Jessa_Rey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessa_Rey/pseuds/Jessa_Rey). This is the chapter where we start to find out about what’s really going on…

Rey scrabbled for the bed, but the soft red coverlet tore itself out of her hands. She could feel Ben trying to grab her hands, but the force pulled her inexorably away from him. She was sliding into the far corner of the room with no real idea of how the movement could possibly be happening; her hands burned as the carpet picked up speed.

He threw himself to the floor and started scrambling after her, but somehow he was trapped on the other side of the room even as she fell towards the opposite wall. “No!” she cried in horror.

It was too late. She twisted away from the box on the metal cart, but that trajectory took her right towards the open door. A dark, misty tunnel appeared on the other side. 

A figure in shining chrome armor appeared at the other end of the tunnel, seeming both close and far away at the same time. Rey could see no distinguishing features, but this was a woman, she somehow knew.

And she almost, _almost_ knew who this armored woman was. The truth battered at the doors of her mind.

She knew this woman. She was afraid of her. Yet she was also struggling to manipulate her somehow, to weave a web of deception around her. Rey was trying to control this faceless warrior woman’s perceptions, to mislead her, and the control was constantly fraying. The struggle was like trying to hold back the ocean with nothing but her own two hands.

Ben was shouting something behind her, trying to reach her, but it was too late. The room gave one last violent tilt, and Rey was falling down an endless tunnel towards a bare metal-walled room. The woman in the shining helmet was standing above the room in a separate corridor, yet Rey could somehow see her clearly, the featureless face filled with malice. A man stood stiffly next to her, his back ramrod straight. Rey could see their two figures tiny and clear, as if at the wrong end of the telescope.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” the man asked in a cold, clipped voice, icy and upper-class. He spoke and stood like a man used to being obeyed, and he was dressed all in precise, crisp black. His red-gold hair caught the sourceless light and glinted back in her eyes.

The woman in chrome spoke then. Her voice was low and smooth and artificially refined, as if every trace of a regional accent had been scrubbed from its tones. “What you won’t. What you can’t. If I can’t crack the Enneagram, then it will not get done. I know better than to expect anything from you.”

“Is it proving effective this time?” In tones of suppressed sarcasm, “Because it seems that all you’ve managed to do is to pull her out of it. Very useful indeed.”

“But _he’s_ obviously in a vulnerable state,” she countered. “I’m going down there. And if you can’t be more useful than that, then you can just stay here.”

Rey understood then that she knew this strange man, too. His iron will was a façade. Beneath his flawless mask, he was an utterly lost and terrified boy. She could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. He had traveled too far from what that boy had once been, had walked too much of the path by his volition, and done too much evil under the stars.

But Ben…

…Ben was _different_ …   
She hoped.

The woman turned, her cloak whirling, and strode down the small corridor to its other end. The red-haired man stood still, staring after her. His face was completely immobile. It might have been carved out of the jevonite stone used to form figures of R’iaa the Inscrutable by the acolytes on Jakku. There was no knowing what he was thinking or feeling or planning.

**  
** For just a moment, the surroundings were completely strange—the white walls and floor of the observation deck, the reinforced glass window looking into the small cell, the understated hum of a large ship in space, everything. All except the girl lying asleep, or at least motionless, on the cot in the cell. She was lying on her back like a sleeping sculpture, dark, thick auburn hair streaming across the pillow, chest rising and falling beneath the blanket with her rapid breathing, dark eyelashes fluttering against her pale skin.

He knew her. No, more than that, much more. A scene came to him, complete, vivid. He had just been holding her in his arms. Kissing her on a bed. And then she’d been torn away from him. And somehow, now, they were here. Totally disoriented, unmoored in time and space, he stared at the girl.

As if his stare had awoken her, she sat bolt upright with a gasp. They stared at each other through the window, and in that instant, he knew exactly what had just happened between them. The ocean, the cottage, the bed. Their near-nudity by the end. The grazing of his sharp white teeth against her stiff nipples, her hand seizing inexpertly at his erection. _Everything._

His hand began to reach out to hers.

And then, in the next heartbeat, it was all gone. His knuckles scraped against the reinforced glass.

The girl’s eyes widened. She glanced frantically to the left. At the same moment, Kylo heard the tramp of footsteps down the corridor on that side, coming towards the observation deck.

Swiftly, he reached out to the control panel and tapped a button that would send the sedating solution down the leads to the needles in her arm. She fell back onto the cot, eyes closed, just as Phasma threw the corridor door open and strode inside the small space overlooking the special prisoner’s quarters where Rey was kept.

He had no more than a few moments to somehow gather his thoughts together, to struggle for some sort of control. He did not know why Phasma was there, what she was doing, whether or not she had anything to do with himself and Rey being pulled out of the Enneagram dream, or really much of anything else. He would need to conceal his reactions from her while knowing none of this, but it was more than that. He did not remember exactly what had just happened between him and Rey in the dream. Only that he had finally succeeded in getting further into her mind than ever before… but that she had also delved into his own.

“I didn’t request your presence, Phasma,” he managed to say.

“I only thought that you might need some assistance.” Phasma started to reach for the panel that controlled the Enneagram. He swept his arm in front of her to block her arm.

“Stop it,” he said as coldly as he could. “I don’t want you touching that. Rey is not to be harmed, and not to be interfered with by anyone except myself. We’ve already gone over this. Were my instructions unclear in some way?”

“You won’t allow anyone else to question her,” said Phasma. “I’m only trying to learn if you’ve finally obtained information.”

“That’s for me to do. And me alone. I’ve modified the Enneagram, and only I can use it.”

Phasma was silent for a moment. Kylo stared through the window at the girl with closed eyes, dark shadows like smudges underneath her dark eyelashes, trying desperately to regain some vestige of control. This particular view was not helping the project one bit. She was muttering and moving, frowning in her sleep, almost awake. Her dark auburn hair spilled across the blanket, which was slipping from her shoulders. It was warm and thick; he’d replaced the ragged sheet. She had a soft pillow and a comfortable cot, all courtesy of himself. He’d explained that privations would be less than useless in getting information out of her. She was a scavenger from Jakku. She’d slept on dry, stony earth and sucked sand for water. It would be better to throw her off guard with a few comforts. Hux had agreed with him, which was unexpected. Kylo had despised the way that Hux had been the one to insist on these things before he had a chance to ensure them on his own. But he knew that he was never quite sure of his own powers of persuasion over the guards assigned to watch the prisoners. Hux was the one who commanded the soldiers and the army.

Phasma had never been convinced by either of them. But Hux had helped to persuade her that Rey to be physically comfortable, or the Enneagram wouldn’t work. And as much as Kylo hated every moment of being forced to cooperate with Armitage Hux about anything, he had to admit that the other man had been helpful in this instance.

“Don’t you ever worry that she might wrest control from you?” asked Phasma behind him, breaking into his thoughts.

“No.” Kylo said curtly.

Phasma shifted her gaze to the metal box on the stand next to the prisoner’s cot. “Is it wise to keep the Enneagram in the room with the prisoner?” she asked, apparently undeterred.

“It’s necessary for the operation of the machine,” he replied.

She did not respond. Not even by so much as a nod of the head.

His authority was fraying, and he knew it. There had been a time, not long ago, when Phasma wouldn’t have even thought of undermining his authority, even in such subtle ways—a silence, a pause, a suggestion that his methods were not succeeding. It had so much easier to convince her—and everyone else, if he was going to be truthful with himself—that his orders were not to be questioned back when Snoke had still been alive. He had to concede the irony of that fact. He had been Snoke’s clear favorite and supported by his considerable power as Supreme Leader. But Hux had sometimes been more of a favorite that Kylo would have wished, for all of Snoke’s dismissive statements about rabid curs having their uses. Now, the king was dead, and the former princelings were fighting for the crown.

And in the middle was Rey, this mysterious girl on the cot in the room in front of him. Rey, and all the secrets she knew and would not share. He’d come closer to getting those secrets out of her than ever before, although he was nowhere near close enough. Not yet.

_But today,_ thought Kylo. _Today, I came closer than ever before._

Because what he hadn’t told Phasma, or anyone else, was that he’d been using the device for weeks now and had never really succeeded in taking control of any of Rey’s dreams or thoughts, catching no more than maddening glimpses. She’d kept him out, and the Enneagram could only work if he forced or found a way in. 

Until today. Something had happened, something he still didn’t understand in the least and didn’t think he was going to figure out with both Phasma looking over his shoulder. He knew she had a smirk on her face beneath that helmet, the face she’d never allowed him or anyone else to see fully. Well, unless she’d let Hux see it while they were alone together, although he doubted even that.

If _only_ Phasma would get the hell out of there and leave him with Rey, he knew that he could succeed. But she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.


End file.
